Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Before I can try and ditch Jake, Oliver heads to the kitchen. “I brought donuts. Why don’t you join us, Landlord?”
“I wish I could,” Jake starts.
I look up at Oliver. “He’s actually on a one-man search party for Rocky.”
“I wouldn’t phrase it like that.” Jake side-eyes me again.
“How would you phrase it?” Nova asks curiously.
“I’m making sure her ex-husband isn’t crashing here. That’s it.”
Neither of my brothers bat an eye at the ex-husband title. Probably since Rocky has been too many things to me, not because Rocky gave them a heads-up about it.
“I don’t know how well you know her ex . . .” Jake trails off. Okay, now he’s prying for info.
“Too well, unfortunately,” Nova grumbles.
Jake stiffens in what I can only register as a protective stance. Great, Nova just validated Jake’s bad feelings about Rocky.
Oliver is only staring at me. His lip lifts in a sympathetic, knowing look.
When I was younger, instead of confiding in Hailey about liking her older brother, I told my brothers instead. Both of them.
Oliver has always had a knack for compassion. He’s like a heating blanket, able to dial up the temperature and even suffocate if he wants, but Nova is more like steel.
“Did he do something?” Nova wonders, reading Jake’s posture.
Jake just looks to me to verify or deny.
I’m not unearthing anything. “No, as much as I love this Rocky crusade,” I say with a prickly tone.
“There’s no crusade,” Jake interjects with an outstretched hand—as though he’s worried I’m going to fling myself into Edward Scissorhands’ arms if the Hate-on-Rocky parade continues.
Jake is a good guy.
And he’s been sniffing out Rocky’s bad-guy behavior since day one. After the boathouse party, it’s likely shot to astronomical levels. The rampant gossip has turned into a broken game of Telephone, all of which I’ve overheard at the country club.
Did you know Grey and his ex-wife fought for five hours?
Did you hear that Grey punched a wall?
Phoebe couldn’t stop crying. She was sobbing on her way out the door.
I heard she’s the problem. Couldn’t please him in bed. He deserves better.
Add in the fact that most everyone there was drunk and probably didn’t remember shit, it’s mostly all exaggerations and lies.
Jake could very well believe all of it for all I know.
A string of tension is cut when Jake sees the lilac donut box on the kitchen counter. “Those are from Seaside Griddle?”
Oliver nods. “I’m told only the best in town.”
Jake hesitates for a second, considering staying. Oliver and Nova must want more intel from my landlord. There’s no other reason to want him here. We all migrate into the kitchen, and I gather a couple beers from the fridge for my brothers.
Koning Lite.
I wish I was kidding.
Jake side-eyes the beer bottles, and I flush, wanting to tell him I bought a twelve-pack before I knew his whole name. But his phone suddenly rings with a chime that sounds a whole lot like an instrumental tune of “Bad to the Bone” by George Thorogood & the Destroyers.
He audibly groans while fishing for his cell, and instead of answering, he presses the button to silence the call.
“Who was that?” I wonder. Okay, now it’s my turn to pry.
Jake gives me a look like I broke a cotillion rule. “Did anyone teach you manners?”
Four different cotillion classes in four different states. Though, I did only finish one. We had to leave before I completed any of the others.
“Manners are a choice,” I tell him, sliding the beer and bottle opener to Nova. “And sue me for wondering who you hate enough to give that ringtone to.”
He blinks. “My mom.”
“Joke?” I wonder.
“No joke. Unfortunately.”
Oliver laughs, taking his uncapped beer from Nova. “That’s great. I like this one.” He tips his bottle toward Jake.
Jake looks between the three of us. “And what do your parents do for a living?”
The energy in the room shifts, but I’m not sure Jake can pick up on it. Dad is in prison. Has been since I was a kid.
Mom . . . well, that’s going to be a tough one to explain.
“Boring corporate shit,” Nova says in a swig.
“Phoebe pissed them off enough that she got her trust fund taken away,” Oliver adds. “We’re just in town to make sure she’s doing okay.”
I guess it’s a decent cover story. At least I won’t have to pretend not to know some upper society ways if I came from it at one time. And maybe . . . maybe that is the truth? A piece of it at least.
Jake glances at me with more and more curiosity like he’s gathering pieces of my history. He won’t ever have the full picture, though. I can’t let him have it.
“You’re not on good terms with your parents?” He asks the question that he knows the answer to.
I shrug. “Not really.”